My birthday surprise

I tried my best. If the language concerns you, tell me and I'll keep it to a minimum on the next story. I tried to do accents, and It'll tell you when someone is using an accent. Also, I'm only 13, so please do mind that. Though I'm very smart, I still make mistakes. Also, though where i am right now has no guns, there will be a lot. here is a link to a list of guns from wikipedia. just go down the list if you dont know wat the gun is.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_firearms




My birthday. The one goddam day a year I can do whatever the hell I want. Get presents, eat cake, and any other junk food. We were actually in Chicago, about 180 miles from my hometown of Indianapolis. I now regret going to Chicago, considering what was about to happen. At least I knew my way around there. But Chicago. Oh, Chicago. Too damn big for my situation. Anybodies situation, really. It would have been nice at least knowing where I was going. In Indy, I knew my way around blindfolded.
It was my 13th birthday, and I was pretty happy with my life. We had just gotten done touring the Sears Tower. It was a really cool place. We walked out into the street from the main doors, and about 20 people darting down the street, looking like a herd of antelope. We were sorta freaked out, but we didn't run, and nobody would tell us what was wrong. We crossed the street, and went into the age old parking garage. We got into our Hyundai Sonata, and drove about 15 minutes to the Rainforest Cafe'. I loved that place. I say "loved" because I'm not entirely sure if it's still there. We ate dinner, and ordered a "Volcanoe", this big dessert with 4 brownies, several scoops of ice cream, and fudge on top. As we were eating this monster, some guy ran up the stairs, shouting in some foreign language, I figured it was Chinese. Some of the employees grabbed him and pulled him out the door, kicking and screaming. Took 5 guys to get the bastard out the door. We finished up, payed the bill, and waited for the valets to get our car. I had my PSP with me, so I was sorta looking forward to the drive home. We waited, and waited, and waited. Finally after about 20 minutes, we asked one of the valets standing with us where our car was. He said he didn't know, and that he was sure it would come sooner or later. My dad would'nt have that, so he made a scene. Screaming and shit. I melted into the gift shop to avoid the chaos, figuring they'd come get me when the car came. I walked around the gift shop, found a couple cool nic-nacs, but nothing I would spend the money on. After literally another hour, my mom came and got me and my little sister and said the car was here. I walked out and asked what happened, sorta to the valet, who looked terrified, and my parents, and pretty much anyone who wanted to answer. The valet turned to me. I've never seen that much terror on anyone's face. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot, and he seemed like he was having a seizure, twitching and shit. He said, in the most nervous voice, "O..one of our valets had an.......accident." He turned away, and more stumbled forward than anything. An accident?! An accident?!?! That's it?! I wanted to actually know, so I turned to my dad and asked him the same thing. He said that he didn't know anymore than I did. We got into our car and started home. Something wasn't right. The people running down the road, the foreign guy screaming at the top of his lungs, the accident. An accident would not produce th ereaction it did with that valet. I reached down and grabbed my bo staff that I had left in the car and had ended up coming with us, and set it on my lap. The four foot tall piece of graphite with black electric tape around certain parts of it, balanced on my lap, and when I used it, worked perfectly for my four foot ten build. I held it up slightly, set it back on my lap, and pet it like a dog. I perked my head up as we heard a screech of metal.

We rounded the corner as it crashed. A brand new Hummer came around the corner, had to be doing 60 miles an hour, and flipped end over end 3 times. My dad stopped the car, and we all sat there, amazed at what we had just seen. I was the first one out of my seatbelt, then my dad. He told my mom and little sister to stay in the car, and tried to get me back in, but I refused. He knew I wasn't going to get back in, so he let me be. At the same time, we both walked over to where the truck had landed. He pulled out his cell phone and started on 911. More and more people gathered around, as I sat there dumbfounded. Not 5 minutes later, the first fire truck came. Then an ambulance. The paramedics started towards the truck. But as they neared it, the man in the truck crawled out. Now, mind you, it had been like 6 minutes since this truck had flipped. Now this guy was crawling out. Crawling out! I couldn't believe it, and neither could the crowd. Everyone gasped, and a few tried to go help him up. The paramedics told them to get away, and pushed them aside. The guy stood up and looked around. The paramedics neared him with their first aid kits. One of them said something, and the man turned his head towards the medic. He kept coming at the medic with his hands raised, moaning and stumbling about. I think he fell 3 times in 5 feet.
He walked over to the paramedic. As he neared the first medic, I decided to actually look at the guy that had survived this crash. He was torn up pretty badly, but who wouldn't be? It wasn't until I saw him take the first chomp out of the paramedic that I realized something was really truly wrong. Everyone standing around screamed, while the police around tackled the guy. One of the officers landed on him and they both rolled to the ground. The crash survivor bit the cop and he rolled away, screaming in pain. 4 more cops tackled the thing, that by now I refused to call a man, and pinned him down. The crash survivor thrashed about, like he was having a horrible seizure. After 5 minutes of wrestling around, the cops got the "man" on a stretcher, and cuffed his hands and feet to it. The ambulance sped away with two police cars escorting it to the hospital. The two bitten men DIED, not two minutes later. I closed my car door as the were put in the back of the ambulances.

Died from a bite? That's all my dad could say as we stopped at a McDonalds down the road. Curse my little sisters tiny bladder. I didn't say anything, but I was asking myself the same question, trying to avoid any crazy conclusions. By then it was past 11 o'clock, and my dad did not want to drive all the way home and arrive at 1 o'clock. So we rented a motel just outside of town, and we all went to bed.
I couldn't sleep. I was just recreating what I had seen in my head. The crash. The guy crawling out. The medic and officer being bitten. I couldn't have imagined this. It was all too real. I started to get a little worried, and I'm not one to do that. I went to the car and grabbed my bo staff, and silently thanked the gods I had it. My dad woke up, scolded me for not going to bed, and fell right back asleep. I got back into the queen sized bed and lied the staff next to the bed. I fell asleep as the digital clock turned to 4 in the morning.

I think it was about 9 o' clock when I heard the first screams. By how light it was outside, and the clock next to me, it was 9 o' clock actually. The screaming continued for about 30 more seconds until I silently cussed out the screamers, got up, opened the door, and let my mouth drop open. It was chaos. In fact, chaos, doesn't describe what I was seeing.
We were im the second floor of the motel. I looked down the open hallway to my left and right. Others were doing the same as me. Looking at the chaos below. Down below, fire, death, horror. There were people running around, kids, babies, and bags in their hands. Dead people lying on the ground, others that looked like they should be dead walking around. I heard a sound like something hitting metal, and a man fell down the short stairs, and smash into 3 people walking, not running, walking, stumbling, up the stairs. He got up and held his arm. I could tell from where I was it was broken.
He screamed in pain for a short second, then picked up a small metallic briefcase, and swung it at the closest persons head. It hit their head, but instead of blood going everywhere, black puss looking stuff flew all over the others coming up the stairs. I spun around quickly to get my parents, and saw that my little sister was standing next to me, rubbing her eyes. She started to look, but I pushed her down and she started crying. I tried to shut her up, but my parents woke up. My dad started shouting at me, telling me to leave her alone. By the way, my sisters name is Brooke. I told him that he needed to come here now, but he just questioned me, and refused to get up. I finally told him to get his ass over here, knowing that if I did that, we would be there faster. He came at me as my mom climbed out the other side of the bed, but before he hit me, he looked up to the ensuing hell below. He stopped in his tracks. He muttered some cuss words, and told my mom and sister to gather as much as they could up. They both started to question him, but quickly stopped once the saw the look on his face. He told me the same, but I argued with him.
"Get your stuff packed"
"I do" I told him. "Then come on. Help the girls. Find a weapon." I grabbed my duffel bag of stuff. It's all I had. I picked up my bo staff and held it out to my dad, more for him to look at than anything. He reached for it but i jerked it away. He got angry. "What the hell? Give me the damn staff."
"No." I argued. "Tyler, goddamit. This is no time to be screwing around." he started to raise his voice. "I'm not screwing around." I said calmly. "This is mine, and I need it too. I can actually use it yah know." He growled to himself, walked away to help my mom pack up everything else. I stepped outside the door. The things were making an advance up the stairs. They were now 4 steps from the top. Two men were holding them off with lamps and chairs from the room as a couple women threw things from the long balcony. Toasters, small refridgerators, coffee makers. All also from the rooms. I ran over there. One of the men tried to tell me to go, but I held up my staff and said, and I quote, "I'm not that damn useless." He looked at me quickly then sighed. I went to where the two women were and started jabbing at the heads of the things from above. I winced when it went through one's head, but not again after that. Their puss-for-blood stained my bo staff immediately. and I managed to get about 2 or 3 more before the two guys advanced down the stairs. I followed to the landing, then stopped. They shouted to the girls and some other people that had gathered there to get some big furniture. About a minute later, the people had two couches, a mattress, and a couple chairs sitting at the top of the stairs. The guys ran up with me ahead of them.
By this time, I was fine with calling them zombies, because no matter how that sounded, there were zombies atacking us right now. So I'm going to call them zombies now.
We got to the top of the stairs. Already several zombies were on the landing. I helped two guys push a couch down the stairs. It knocked most of them over. We pushed another one down. Then we threw the chairs as a small barricade. The mattress served as a slide, so they would slip if they piled up on it. We then ran to the other staircase and helped them do the same thing. After a while, we ran out of toasters to throw, so we then just built up on the barricades.
Everyone on our floor that had survived, which was about 40 of us, were gathered around, talking about it. Everything had died down a bit, so we didn't bother with being afraid. We were safe for the time being. I liked to be the hero, and shout of good ideas that people would actually listen to, but I usually didn't. But this wasn't a time to cower from something that could save mine and everyone elses life. I shouted above everyone,"Everyone!!!! Listen up!!!!! Please. We need to figure something out." Everyone quieted down, and I got up on a chair so everyone could see and hear me. I first asked for anyone with a military, medical, or engineering background to come up with me. One of the men that was at the staircase came forward, and two others. They had previous military background. I didn't ask about their rank. We had one nurse, a doctor, and someone who was in school as an engineer. I explained that we should all stay where we were and survive there for a while. Most people agreed, but a couple left. I told everyone that we needed to go get supplies, so we jacked and searched some trucks and vans from the dead or missing people, and used the remaining to make a barricade on the entrance, and when someone wanted in, we would move the utility van out of the way like a gate. 25 of us set out.

Me, my dad, and several other guys and even a couple girls went out around 2:00 in the afternoon to get supplies. I told everyone to get wood, nails, and some construction tools like hammers and drills. We all decided to meet back at the motel at around 5:00. So we did. At 5:45, only half the people were there. At 6:15, only 16 of the 25 people that had left were back. We weren't going to search for anyone that was missing. We did find some survivors. Altogether we only brought back 3. We took inventory on our supplies, came up with shifts of who would ook out at what times, and did a head count on everyone. There were originally 40 people, and with the ones that had not come back, and the ones we had found, we now had 35. We had plenty of supplies, and some people had even found guns in certain stores. Everyone took their stuff, and went to their rooms. Any vacant rooms on that floor were used to store any other food, and would be shared amongst everyone. Me and my dad had also bought some wood, and we reinforced the door. We then helped others do the same.
I walked in as my dad was unpacking the last of the supplies, and putting it in the small cabinets. He walked over to me, put his hand on my shoulder, looked out the door, and shut and locked it.

Noone really talked the next couple days. Everyone had worked together, and now that we had all succeded, they were in no position to communicate anymore. The cell lines stayed active for another day, but went dead. We watched the news everyday, but with each report, it was less and less information. And after 3 more days, even they went. It was another week without any sign of letting up, before things took a turn for the worse.

Everyone started talking again on that day. It was 3:42 in the afternoon. It all started when we heard a loud bang right outside. We all had heard gunshots, but this one was loud, and close. In fact, it WAS right outside. Most of us rushed out onto the balcony when the second shot went off. We were standing out there when the third, then fourth, then the silence. The motel rooms across the small parking lot were blocking our view of where the shots were coming from. Then, out of nowhere, that sound came.
The sound that when you hear it, you know that someone is desperate. That sound, the inevitable sound, the one I had just been waiting for. The sound of an automatic Kalashnikov. The legendary AK-47, the one that I hoped I wouldn't hear. I had heard the M-16's from the police, and even the large caliber rifles of old farmers and hunters. But that was the gun that I could have cared less to hear. Because no matter what was happening right now, you still have to be desperate to survive to use that big SOB.
I was the third person down the stairs. Right in front of me were the two guys I had helped defend the staircase with almost two weeks ago. Right behind me, my dad, and about 10 other people. We all ran as fast as we could. When we rounded the corner of the building, we saw one thing right away, something we weren't prepared to see. I held out my bo staff like a spear, and pointed it at this grisly sight. But once my eyes adjusted, my arms became limp, and the staff fell to the ground below me. I, was way unprepared for this level of gore.

Gore never bothered me. I would watch Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe while I ate my dinner. Would watch Starship Troopers while I finished up the rest of the pumpkin pie. And I had never so much as even gagged. But God forbid, I fucking threw up when I saw this. I FUCKING THREW UP!! I did. Not much because we were rationing our food, but I threw up my breakfast and lunch. In front of us were three zombies, bent over a dead person, eating him. The guy's leg was in one zombies hand, but not on the person laying there. One arm was gone, the other half gone. His chest was wide open, and most of the internal organs thrown about. And his face. Ooohhh, his face. Gone. Gone. Not half there. Not mostly there. Not even next to his corpse. Gone. The zombie above his head had his face in its mouth. Like the monster had just peeled it away, like an apple's skin. I gagged this time, but didn't throw up. Two others did though. I picked up my slightly blood-stained staff from the ground.
That's when I saw all the blood on the ground, and the AK-47 covered in it. My mouth slightly dropped open, and instead of taking both, I put the staff back on the ground, and picked the AK up.
It was literally doused in blood, so I thought it wouldn't even fire. Then I remembered that they were designed to withstand things like this.
I thought about a story I had heard about the AK. A squad of men were observing a battle field. They had found a dead body, and turned it over. Under the corpse was a Kalashnikov covered in mud, blood and guts. One man had picked it up, cocked it, and pulled the trigger. It worked perfectly, there and now. I held it to my hip, figuring that the recoil would be to much for my tiny figure. One guy saw what I was doing and went for the gun, but I fired before he got to it.
The single bullet went through the first zombie's chest, and that's when they all noticed us standing there. They all made an advance at us, and I held down the trigger. The gun jerked everywhere, but I fired in bursts to keep the recoil down. They went into every part of the zombies, except the head. I aimed it up slightly, and pulled the trigger again. The first bullet jerked the gun out of my hands, but hit the first zombie in the head. Puss, blood and brains went everywhere. It instanly fell. That same man from the staircase picked up the fallen firearm and held it to his shoulder. I saw and heard him hold his breath, then fire a shot into the next zombie's head. It fell, and the last one tripped over it's dead undead corpse. The guy with the AK calmly walked over to the fallen zombie, and put a shot in its head. The body bounced up slightly, and the creature died.
He turned towards the group, and stood there, staring at us as we looked over him. He could tell we were all curious, but I spoke up. "I know you used to be in the Armed Forces, but where did you learn to aim like that?" I asked him. A slight smile came over his face. He said "I used to be a sniper in the Corp. Was for about 4 years. I was a damn good one." He took the gun and walked past us towards the motel. I picked up my bo staff and slowly walked over to the dead man and zombies. They looked awful. I stayed back a few feet.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something shiny laying against the blood covered brick wall of the motel. It was a metal trash can lid. The ones everyone used to have. At that time, I was still into guns and army things, and liked to look cool. I was also very resourceful. I thought how I would look with my staff and a metal trash can lid in my hands. I loved the movie 300, and thought of this a perfect time to use that technique, and noone would say a word to me. I was very confident in my ability to survive, and I was glad to have this oppurtunity to show what I could do, and how I could defend myself. I could use them just like the Spartans had in 300. I started back to the room with my dad, and when he saw the makeshift shield in my hand, gave me an "Are you really serious?" look, and did that little smile sigh thing. We walked across the parking lot, and halfway there, I stopped to play around a bit. In the few days, though noone had talked, we had secured the area before we went into our short exiles. And if any got to close, someone went and took care of them. So I was relatively safe playing around in the lot.

I swung my staff around for about 15 minutes before I got tired and sat on the tailgate of a Dodge Ram. I looked at my wrist watch that I had found in one of the dead guest's car. It was 4:08, only about 20 minutes since I had just seen two men die, and another one mutilated. Yet, it didn't bother me much. I'm a relativley sensitive kid, but when it comes down to the big scheam of things, I could be hard as nails. And I had to think about the fact that those "men" were no longer men. I dismissed them as monsters, hell spawns that no matter how they used to be, they now no longer deserved to live. They were no longer alive. No longer.........sane. I looked out towards the city. A couple stacks of smoke from fires billowed up. The occasional gunshot.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I saw a zombie heading up the staircase. I started shouting to the people up there, and to the people that were down on the parking lot level with me. I ran up to it and wacked it with my staff in the back of the head. It was hard enough, because it turned around and fell down the stairs, onto me. It went to bite me, but I stuck my hands on its throat, and held the creatures mouth away from me. I started screaming for help. There was nothing I could do. I was stuck. Even if I did grab my staff, there was no way I could hit him hard enough. Then I heard the gunshot from the familiar AK-47. The zombie rolled off of me, and I scrambled up. I looked over, and there, standing with the smoking firearm, stood the man. The guy from the staircase. He walked over to me as I thanked him over and over again. My parents came running over to me, and hugged and kissed me. They thanked him too, and told me to be more careful. I said I know, and walked over to the dead zombie. We checked him over, and determined that he was someone from our group. Several people, mostly guys, cussed to themselves, and the women gasped.
I looked around for the staircase guy. I found him and asked him about his career.
He said that he was former Marine Corp. Captain Jonny Polter. He was a sniper, and had led and provided sniper support for the Special Forces squads. He was training to be a helicopter pilot right now, and was then hoping to fly for the Marines. I took the information, and thought about how much of a help he would be to this group.The other 2 were both privates in the Army, as I had found out.
Most of the survivors valued my opinions and ideas. They recognized that without me, they could have all been dead, or at least clueless. Before everything started I had always thought about what I would do during a zombie invasion. It helped pass time a lot. I walked over to the majority of the people who were standing in a group.